What hope would there be for the request to the Cupbearer
of the sky for the wine of sociability? He too has already taken one or two or
four overturned cups. Putting together one and two and four, there are seven
heavens, and overturned cups are always empty. The meaning is, where in the
cups of the sky is the wine of sociability, that we should long for it? (199)

FWP:

What a lovely combination of wordplay and meaning-play! The
first line is abstract and almost uninterpretable-- and even the second holds
its double punches in reserve until the last possible moment. Why should we
not ask the Cupbearer of the celestial sphere, and/or the dome of the sky, for the wine of sociability, mirth, good company?

=Because he's already drunk it all, and overturned his cups
afterwards to show that he's had enough.

=Because he has no wine-- all he's ever had is overturned
cups, in the form of the heavenly spheres.

=Because we want a cup of the auspicious wine of mirth and good company,
and all he's ever had is 'unfortunate, unlucky' cups-- for as we in the ghazal world know, disasters usually 'descend' on us humans from the sky (as in {14,8}).

=Because he's already drunk so many cups of wine that he's
intoxicated, and is thus unable or unwilling to listen to our appeals.

Then there's the enjoyable number play. Ek
do means 'one or two', just as in English. And do chaar
means 'two or three', or perhaps 'three or four'. So that when the speaker
conflates the two idiomatic expressions into ek do chaar
, he not only evokes both expressions, but also conjures up the wonderful
fuzziness of intoxication-- 'well, I've had two or three drinks, or maybe
it was four; or wait, it could have been five'. Plainly, they've all begun
to blur together. (For the supreme example of such number-play, see {20,10}.)

And as the commentators point out, if you add up one plus
two plus four you get seven, the number of the 'seven heavens' [saat
aasmaan], the concentric spheres of Greek cosmology. Each of which would
of course look, from earth, like an inverted bowl or cup. Inverted in satisfaction
by a happily intoxicated drinker who can't hold another drop? Inverted in
despair to show the lack of wine? Inverted in dismay at the 'unfortunate,
unlucky' nature of the wine? As so often, the choice is ours.